


The Art of Falling in Love

by space_kid (orphan_account)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Demon!Dean, Human!Castiel - Freeform, M/M, Selling souls, goobers falling in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-04
Updated: 2014-11-04
Packaged: 2018-02-23 14:44:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2551397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/space_kid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You know demons don't have emotions, right?"</p><p>"Neither do angels, and I fell for you."</p><p>*  *  *</p><p>Castiel sells his human soul to be with Dean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Art of Falling in Love

"I know you're listening, so just come here!"

Castiel was beyond agitated. He drew a messy red pentagrem on a gravel crossroads, intentions clear and precise. He placed the box under rocks, and was standing in a circle of red with only the moonlight as a flashlight. Castiel paced the space, looking around for his saleswoman that was bound to show up. He needed this to work, and anything less then accomplishing his goal would end in blood and fire.

"Oh, you've got to be joking."

Castiel turns around, facing a women with black hair and a skimpy black dress, eyeing him with red disgust. She crosses her arms, looking like she's mentally clawing the ex angel's throat out. Castiel fixes her his own glare, standing in the red circle, nerves fluttering and brain seconds away from shorting out.

"What do you want, Asstiel?" The women sneers, shelving her red eyes for green ones. Castiel cringed at the hue, forcing himself to tear away from them. The is the first time he would prefer red eyes to green. The wounds stung.

"I'm here to sell my soul," Castiel states plainly. The women raises an eyebrow, cocking a hip.

She scoffs. "What soul? You're an angel, and a pretty pathetic one with that." Castiel narrows his eyes on the women.

"I fell.." He begins, causing the demon to perk up. She steps closer to him, smirk growing at red flashing for a second. It's a deal of a life time, an ex angel's human soul. Castiel knew she'd be a fool not to at least negotiate.

"What do you desire?" She cooed, picking at his trench coat seductively, batting her eyelashes. He looks down at the women, trying not to shove her away and stab her with his angel blade.

Castiel takes a deep breath, evening out his voice. "Take me to hell."

The women tsks at him, mocking disapproval. "Oh angel, what's a pretty face like you want down there?"

"That's none of your concern. Just send me to hell," Castiel bites out. He's wasting time. Sam probably knows he's gone and is out looking for him. Castiel _needs _this deal.__

The women gives a small grin, knowing in a way. "This wouldn't happen to have anything to do with that Winchester, would it?"

Castiel swallows nervously, avoiding eye contact by turning away. He certainly didn't need this demon of all things questioning him. She didn't need to know that he rather go to hell with Dean then Earth without him. She didn't need to know that he stayed awake in the bunker, thinking about where Dean is. She didn't need to know he spent 3 days awake straight, trying to find a cure to the Mark. This women didn't need to know that Castiel got goosebumps whenever Dean was around, or got giddy whenever he touched him.

"No."

She chuckled. "Whatever you say feathers..." She grinned, and placed a cold behind his neck, pulling his face down and toward her. She grins, lips a short distance away.

"When you open your eyes, you be in Hell." She winked. "Tell Winchester Lana says hi," she whispers before smashing their lips together, sealing their fates. Castillo tries desperately to keep the kiss as innocent as possible, but the women insists on shoving her tongue down his throat, and making small moans of a sinful proportion. To make it easier, Castiel imagines it's Dean's lips on his, moving with purpose, with passion and intent. He pretends it's just after a stressful job, and one of them was on death row, head practically on a platter. He thinks that the kiss is a last moment move of desperation, showing the other much more then words could ever accomplish. With that fantasy, Castiel barely catches his own throaty moan of _Dean. ___

And when Castiel opens his eyes, his wrists are chained by bloody metal. They rattle with movement, and Castiel regains his breath, trying to focus. He's here, in hell. And angel of the Lord, banished to hell for selling his soul. As ridiculous the situation, he finds himself strangely okay. His eyes skim the area, notices red and a platter of silvery tool for torture. He knows what he got himself into, but Dean is here, facing inner torture. Together, they'd face it. A loud and shrill scream is heard in the distance.

Castiel looks up from the red and stained ground, seeing the back of a man. He's leaning down over the tools, rattling loudly and cleaning them. Castiel's breath catches as his eyes widen in surprise.

_"Dean." ___

The figure turns around, wearing Dean Winchester's face. But no, that's not right. This thing is the new Dean, New Michael Sword, New Winchester. It wasn't possession, it was self hatred to a degree to a scary level, so much his very soul is twisted and bent in ways Castiel could not cure. That's why he was here, anyway. No cure. Sam didn't need to know that he took the coward's way out, leaving everything he knew. No angel would be dumb enough to dip into perdition for him, of all the angels. He chose Dean, like he always would. The only crime he ever committed, really, was loving Dean too much.

His eyes are black and glistening, as he grins cheerfully at Castiel. His shirt is speckled with dead man's blood, and his hands are coated in pure red. Castiel, however, can't tear his eyes from Dean's black one's. They are so unlike is usual green ones, seemingly the polar opposite. Castiel can practically see the monster within, clawing its way out and toward him. He knows he's in trouble, being chained feet for Hell's God of torture, but even then, he can't will himself to be scared.

He's with Dean, and when he is, he's okay.

"Hey Cas," Dean smirks, waltzing over to him with an angel blade, tossing it in his hands and examining it. Castiel doesn't try and fought the chains, he knows there is no escape.

Dean drags the blade down Castiel's shirt, ripping the fabric. The ex angel never looks away from Dean as he does so, trying to see if there is anything even _remotely _righteous about him. Dean looks up from his work, eyes flashing back to green, grinning at Castiel.__

"You like me undressing you?" He asks, tracing the other man's jaw line with the blade. Castiel shudders at the chill of silver, trying to fight the blush he feels. Castiel remains silent, however, not trusting his voice. Dean sighs dramatically.

"You're honestly the last person I expected to be here..." Dean trails off, stepping away from the chained body to walk around the enclosed space. He paces, arms laced behind his back in a relaxed and leisurely way. Castiel envies his comfort, and wishes that he could walk over, and just _touch _Dean. Cradle his damaged head, hold a callused hand, kiss artfully crafted lips. He pulls his chains a bit, trying to chase the dream. Dean looks over his shoulder, grinning like a child.__

"Didn't daddy teach you not to dance with the devil?" He cooed, walking back over to Castiel, who settled back into the uncomfortable position. Dean leaned down then, hand placed harshly next to Castiel's head, leaning so their noses are just barely touching. Castiel realized he could jump up and capture those lips his he wanted to, stake his claim extending beyond a burned hand print. But with the inky blackness staring back at him, he knows now is not the time nor place to have their first brush of lips. Inappropriate and wrong, he decides woefully.

"I did it for you," Castiel struggles out and Dean cuts a large gash down his ribcage, the wound blooming in red pain and agony. Castiel grunts in agitation, trying to struggle away, eventually turning his head away from the demon. Dean, however, seems to have a different plan entirely.

He grips the ex angel's turned away jaw, so he faces him. Castiel's eyes struggle open, noses finally bumping in a disgraceful manner. "Boy Angel, this Winchester has had some downright _sinful _thoughts about you," he traces Castiel's lips with a bloody blade, "and your pretty little mouth of yours."__

Castiel dares move, but his own blood staining his lips makes him nauseous and slightly dizzy. Dean smirks at Cas' obvious discomfort, taking open pleasure in the struggle of prey and the begging of game. Castiel refused to give in, remembering the soft green eyes at held promise and practically digging his heels into the ground. He would _not _give in.__

"There was no cure for the Mark," Cas says as he gasps in pain erupting on his other ribcage.

"You think there would be?" Dean snarls, cuts becoming harsher and more ragged. Castiel wheezes.

"I'd rather have you - _agh! _\- cursed or not," Castiel grits his teeth, cursing his painful slip up. Dean gives a low chuckle as he releases Castiel's jaw with a slam, the ex angel eventually dropping his head in pain and shame. Cursed or not, that was their unofficial truce. They needed one another, not only for a job, but for family. Brothers in arms. The man he practically built from the ground up, from scratch. Piecing his soul back together, shimmering shard by shimmering shard. It was so bright. Blinding almost, and Castiel took pride in his work. Hester was right, however. From the moment he touched Dean Winchester's soul in hell, he was lost in green eyes and freckles.__

Dean stepped back, assessing his work. His eyes narrowed, a playful smile on his lips. "You know demons don't have emotions, right?"

"Niether do angels, and I fell for you," Castiel murmurs, not having the strength to pull his head up from the ground, staring at the blood stained floors beneath.

Castiel, however, never needs to lift his head up. Dean waltzes over, placing the bloody angel blade under his chin, tilting his head up to face him. Castiel let's his eyes roam, taking in every aged detail, every speck and every imperfection. Dean grins, as he lowers his head, capturing the ex angel's lips finally.

Its not exactly a claiming kiss, but it definitely is Dean taking charge and Cas submitting. But it wouldn't have mattered either way, Castiel would have followed Dean anywhere and doing anything. Cas felt a brush of warm, wet heat, and opened up for Dean's tongue, who twisted around Castiel's own, wrestling and playing. Cas felt a moan building up, realizing that the crossroads demon was simply appalling compared to the technique Dean had of his tongue. Castiel didn't want to thing about what this ment, only wanting to fall into the trap with Dean, and kiss him until he could no more.

Dean pulled back a bit, a small string of silver connecting their mouths together. Castiel blushed.

"That's what you want, right angel? Want me to touch you, kiss you, bend you over and _claim _you? You'd like that?" Dean snickered, licking his spit shined lips, never looking away from Cas. The ex angel felt the unfamiliar flicker of fire known as arousal in his gut, but he guessed now was not the time or place for an erection. Castiel nodded breathlessly.__

Dean smirked, walking in front of Castiel, his fingers dancing over his belt buckle. "Lets get started."

Castiel blushes, then nods eagerly. _Yes. Forgive me father, for I'm about to sin. ___

And sin they did.


End file.
